


Aches and Pains

by its_a_religion



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Can be read as gen, Canon Compliant, Chronic Pain, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Indulgent, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, no beta we die like joey batey's cake, set somewhere in their many years of travel, this is mostly comfort honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:15:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23869618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_a_religion/pseuds/its_a_religion
Summary: Jaskier suffers from chronic pain and had been hiding it from Geralt until a particularly bad flare up catches him off guard days away from any town. He tries his best to press on but Geralt is having none of it. Fluff and comfort ensue.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 27
Kudos: 747





	Aches and Pains

**Author's Note:**

> I'll admit, this is entirely self indulgent. I have been obsessing over the Witcher for a while now and wanted to write something and then I had a bad pain day and decided to project onto Jaskier and here we are. His pain is largely based off my own, though I don't have a Geralt to take care of me. Please note I have not played the games and I've only read the first two books so far (though I plan to read them all) so this is set in the netflix canon sometime during their travels. I hope you enjoy this pile of words!

Jaskier woke with a start. His eyes flew open as if to seek out some potential danger in the depths of the night. He peered into the darkness trying to figure out what woke him but didn’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary. An owl was hooting somewhere in the distance and the dim light from the sliver of moon in the sky drifted gently through the leaves of the forest they called home for the night. Geralt, who had been sleeping soundly next to him began to stir seemingly sensing his companion’s wakefulness. Not wanting to disturb the Witcher’s much needed sleep any more than he already had, Jaskier tried to settle back into his bedroll. As he shifted, though, he understood what had woken him. A dull ache was beginning to bloom in his left hip, spreading slowly down towards his knee and up through his lower back.

Following a Witcher around naturally led to many aches and pains over the years, but this time Jaskier’s hurt was of a different nature. The bard had so hoped to avoid this particular situation. He generally tried to distance himself from Geralt when he felt a flare up coming on, making excuses about not wanting to leave a particularly lively town, or having business to attend to elsewhere. It wasn’t as if the two men spent every moment together, they regularly split apart simply due to the nature of their respective professions. Not every lively town had monsters and not every monster infested town had work for a bard. Thus, separation was commonplace among the two and Jaskier making excuses to split off or stay behind never led to any questioning from the Witcher. But now, somewhere deep in the forest, several days ride from any town in any direction, Jaskier could only hope that his pain would resolve itself by morning. If it didn’t he had no doubt that this would be the final straw that would make the Witcher leave him behind for good.

Jaskier could hear Geralt’s abnormally slow breathing had evened out once more and resigned himself to a futile attempt at a good night’s rest, clinging to the hope that he would be fine by morning yet knowing, deep down, it wouldn’t be the case.

At dawn, Geralt woke and began to pack up their camp. Ordinarily, Jaskier would moan about being roused so early, but he hadn’t fallen back asleep since he’d awakened in the middle of the night. By this point the pain had spread through Jaskier’s hips and knees, up his spine and into his shoulders and he simply couldn’t find the strength within himself to complain about the morning as he usually would. If Geralt noticed the lack of grievances coming from the bard he didn’t mention it. Jaskier could hear Geralt packing everything as he usually did, leaving the bedrolls for last so as to allow the bard a few extra minutes of ‘beauty rest’. It was the same routine they always followed and Jaskier knew, as he heard Geralt strapping their things to Roach’s saddle, that he would need to move soon. To say he was filled with dread at the prospect would be an understatement.

“Bard, time to get up,” Geralt rumbled. And there it was, the moment Jaskier had been dreading all night long. Slowly, as if to test his own abilities, Jaskier began to move to get up. The pain was excruciating, but the fear of being left behind was even greater. Trying not to let the pain show in his expression, Jaskier pushed himself off the ground and stood up as carefully as he could without being obvious about his plight. As soon as he was up, Geralt was rolling up their bedrolls, strapping them onto Roach, and mounting her saddle. The Witcher tossed a piece of jerky to the bard, who nearly didn’t catch it, distracted by the pain coursing through his body and urged Roach forward. Jaskier had no choice but to follow.

Grabbing his lute from where it was propped up against a tree, Jaskier did his best to keep up with the steady pace Geralt had set on Roach. Usually, this would be no problem, but given the state of Jaskier’s joints, it was proving to be near impossible. Not only that, but with every step, it seemed, Jaskier could feel the pain spreading. It had reached his wrists and his ankles, and he knew it wouldn’t be long until he could not move at all.

“You’re rather quiet today, bard,” Geralt said, “no new songs to bleed my ears with?”

Jaskier forced out a huff of laughter, “just trying to enjoy the songs of nature, dear Witcher, they’re quite beautiful this morning, even more so than usual I’d say.”

Jaskier managed to keep up enough so as not to lose sight of the Witcher but stayed far enough back that any unintentional moans or groans of discomfort could not be detected. Though, he may have underestimated just how sensitive a Witcher’s hearing really is. He also tried to maintain at least some semblance of normalcy through his usual chatter and could only hope that Geralt didn’t notice the lack of spark in his words.

When Geralt stopped for a break earlier than usual, Jaskier didn’t notice the abnormality. He was more focused on the idea of sitting down than anything else. As Geralt tied Roach’s lead loosely to a tree near a patch of grass, Jaskier attempted, mostly in vain, to make himself comfortable leaned against a large rock. As soon as he made contact with the ground, however, he knew he’d made a mistake. There was a good chance he’d be unable to get up from this spot when Geralt decided to resume their travels. He could feel the pain reverberating through his entire body now and he wished desperately for it to stop though he knew it was for naught. It would take time, probably days, for the pain to subside enough for him to resume his normal habits.

Jaskier noticed Geralt glancing at him warily as he sipped from his waterskin. If Geralt found out about Jaskier’s trouble he would no doubt leave the bard here to fend for himself. Jaskier understood that he was slowing the Witcher down and he wouldn’t blame him for leaving, but he also had grown quite fond of the man in their years of travel and, possibly more importantly, he knew in this state he would be unable to defend himself against danger. It's hard to fight when you can barely move.

“How much further to our next destination,” Jaskier inquired. Foolishly he continued to hold onto the hope that he would be able to keep going at least until nightfall, though rationally he knew it was unlikely he’d be able to get up from his current position.

“We will stop here,” came Geralt’s short reply.

“What? Why?!” Jaskier exclaimed, taken aback by Geralt’s change in behavior. Usually the Witcher preferred to travel from first light until last light, even sometimes into the night depending on the situation and the weather conditions. Stopping midday was practically unheard of. “Did we make better progress than you anticipated? Is there a town nearby? Gods I could go for a nice hot bath and a warm bed, Geralt, it's been too many days since we last saw civilization,” Jaskier rambled.

“No,” was all the response he got.

“Well why then, dear Witcher, are we stopping in the middle of the day?” Jaskier was kicking himself for even asking, given his current state, but he had to know why they weren’t continuing. Geralt didn’t answer, he just gave a little hum and got up to start collecting firewood.

Left alone with his thoughts, Jaskier began to run through every possible reason, that wasn’t himself, for why Geralt had stopped. Perhaps the Witcher had sensed a monster nearby or Roach needed a break, they had been in the woods for a few days now so it wouldn’t be completely implausible. Maybe they really were getting close to a town and Geralt, being the loner he is, didn’t want to end their little camping trip just yet. Whatever the reason, Jaskier just hoped it wasn’t because of him. Lost in thought, Jaskier didn’t notice the sounds of leaves crunching and twigs snapping getting closer to his resting place, only noticing the intrusion when Roach became agitated, stamping her feet and huffing at the strangers invading her space. Jaskier looked up to see two men approaching the mare and another two coming towards himself.

“Gentlemen!” Jaskier greeted, a little more loudly than could be considered normal in hopes Geralt might hear, “what can I do for you on this fine day? Oh! I wouldn’t touch Roach if I were you she doesn’t take kindly to—” Jaskier was abruptly cut off from his ramblings with a swift punch to the face. He let out a pained yelp that morphed into more of a scream when the two men pulled him harshly to his feet. The pain coursing through his body from being moved so abruptly had his vision swimming. Thankfully, through his haze he caught a flash of white hair and the glint of a sword and took grim satisfaction in knowing what would happen next. Through gritted teeth Jaskier bit out, “you boys should run along, I may be but a lowly bard, but my Witcher is coming for you.”

With that Geralt easily cut down the bandits holding onto Jaskier with two quick slashes of his sword. The two that had been trying, in vain, to get near Roach, immediately went running back into the woods at the sight of their partners being brutalized. Unfortunately, as the first two fell to the ground, so too did Jaskier’s body fail to keep him upright. The pain was too much and he cried out as his knees gave out. He expected a spike of pain as he hit the ground, but it never came.

Geralt caught Jaskier as the bard crumpled towards the ground and helped slowly lower him back into a seated position, only this time there was no rock, instead being replaced by the sturdy torso of the Witcher. Jaskier was breathing heavily as the events of the moments before caught up to him and then he registered the position he was currently in. He tried to scramble out of Geralt’s hold, hissing at the pain it caused him.

“Stop moving,” Geralt said tightening his hold, “you’re hurt.” Jaskier opened his mouth to argue that they only punched him once, but was cut off by Geralt rumbling, “I don’t mean your eye.”

With that Jaskier knew the jig was up. He had hoped so desperately, so foolishly, that this moment would never come and yet destiny seemed to be a cruel and heartless force set on destroying everything good in his life.

“I'm sorry Geralt,” Jaskier said helplessly, “I should have told you sooner, ripped the bandage off, as it were. I didn’t mean to slow you down, please don’t leave me here.” On the last syllable his voice began to wobble, and it was all he could do not to start crying right then and there. “Please don’t leave me,” he said again, “I'll be fine by tomorrow and we can go to the nearest town and you can leave me there, just please, _please,_ don’t leave me here alone. I'm _sorry._ ” A few stray tears rolled down the bard’s cheeks and he refused to look anywhere but the ground. Shame colored his features as he babbled his apologies.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said firmly, though not unkindly, “please look at me.”

Jaskier couldn’t bring himself to look up at the Witcher, not when he knew what was coming, not when he knew the rejection he was sure he’d see in his dearest friend’s eyes.

“Jaskier _please,_ ” Geralt tried again, his tone of voice softer than anything Jaskier had heard him use before. Before Jaskier could think twice he was looking up into those yellow eyes he knew so well. “You must truly be a fool to think I would leave you simply because you are in pain.” Geralt spoke softly as though it pained him to even think Jaskier had doubted him.

Jaskier mumbled a regretful, “I'm slowing you down,” in response.

“Slowing me down from what?” Geralt implored, “there’s no contracts to take at the moment and regardless your health and safety comes first.”

Jaskier was taken aback by this and it must have showed in his expression as Geralt’s eyes took on a deep shade of regret. Geralt shifted uncomfortably under Jaskier’s gaze and the slight movement jostled Jaskier eliciting a choked off grunt of pain from the bard.

“Where does it hurt?” Geralt asked seriously.

Jaskier let out a bitter little laugh, “everywhere.”

“Can you ride?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, no.”

Geralt nodded and gently lifted Jaskier up off the ground. The bard hissed at the pain from the sudden movement but made no complaints as Geralt carried him away from the bloody scene of the two dead bandits. In all her bucking around, Roach had managed to free herself from the tree and followed behind as Geralt walked through the forest with Jaskier in his arms. They made it to a clearing by a stream and Geralt gently set Jaskier down propped up against a tree.

“What if the other two come back?” Jaskier asked as Geralt began laying out the bedrolls.

“They won’t,” Geralt replied.

“How can you be so sure?”

“They won’t,” Geralt repeated, “and if they do they’ll meet the same fate as the others.” With that the Witcher nodded, mostly to himself, and let out a small hum as he set out the bedrolls before moving on to gather firewood yet again. This time, however, he stayed within view of Jaskier and the campsite. Jaskier watched as Geralt built a fire and began boiling water before going into his saddle bags and grabbing several different herbs from his stores. Jaskier, for his part, remained quiet, his body was hurting too much for him to find the energy to speak much more than necessary.

Geralt took the water off the fire to allow the tea to steep without boiling and turned back to Jaskier.

“How long?” Geralt asked him.

“Just since the night,” Jaskier replied with a grimace, “I'll be fine soon enough, don’t worry about me.”

Geralt made a face at that. “Not just this time,” he said forcefully, “how long have you been hiding your pain from me?” Geralt’s voice was little more than a growl, but Jaskier could tell he was angrier at himself than the bard.

“You couldn’t have known, Geralt,” Jaskier said honestly, “I always leave when I can feel it getting bad. This time I just didn’t have the chance because we’re out here instead of at some inn in a town.”

Geralt let out a discontented “hmm” in response.

“I’ve been this way my whole life” Jaskier continued, “it comes and goes at random and there’s no way to stop it and there’s no one to blame. It simply is what it is, and I just have to get through it.”

Geralt frowned slightly at that while he poured the tea. He sat down gently next to the bard and offered the earthenware mug. Jaskier moved slowly, bringing his aching hand up to grip the tea, but his sore fingers couldn’t maintain their position long enough to take it from Geralt’s grip. Jaskier huffed in frustration at his own inability, still somewhat afraid Geralt would see this as a weakness and change his mind. Geralt, however, did no such thing. He simply brought the mug to the bard’s lips and gently helped him drink. At the first sip Jaskier spluttered and spat into the grass.

“Geralt that tastes terrible!” He exclaimed in offence. “Are you trying to poison me?!”

Geralt shook his head with a huff, but there was a hint of fondness in his golden eyes, “it's for the pain,” he explained, “drink.”

Jaskier begrudgingly accepted the tea as Geralt raised it to his lips once more. He sipped the tea slowly, trying not to think about the taste and instead focusing on the comforting heat that spread through his body as the warm liquid did its job. When the tea was gone Geralt hummed a quiet note of satisfaction.

“Will you be well enough to ride to town tomorrow?” Geralt asked as he rinsed the mug out.

Jaskier wasn’t sure how to answer that. There was always the possibility that he would wake up in the morning feeling fine but given that it was only midday and he could barely move, it was doubtful he’d be much better the next day. He also knew that sleeping on the ground wasn’t going to make any of this any easier on his body and he really needed a hot bath and a comfortable bed to lay in if he had any hope of recovery. He wished horses were a smoother ride, but all the bouncing around was sure to be hell on his body if he tried while it was this bad.

“I certainly hope so,” he opted to reply, adding in a little of his usual dramatic flair in an attempt to ease the crease forming itself in Geralt’s brow, “I'm quite sick of this whole business as it is. Oh, what I wouldn’t give for an inn right now. I do, so wish, I could play my lute, but alas,” he stiffly held up his arm as if to prove a point, wincing slightly at the motion, “we will have to suffer the rest of the day in the silence of the forest.”

“Don’t move if it hurts you,” Geralt grumbled.

“Everything hurts me right now, dear Witcher,” Jaskier replied aiming for a joke but knowing he fell flat when he sees Geralt furrow his brow further. “Don’t worry about it so much, Geralt,” Jaskier tried again to put the Witcher at ease, “there isn’t anything to be done at this point but wait. Unless you can magic a hot bath and a warm bed for me, all we can do is wait until the pain subsides.”

Geralt gave a grunt of displeasure at this. “Would you like to lay down?” He asked, knowing the bard wouldn’t be able to move to the bedroll himself and guessing the tree was not especially comfortable. To his surprise, though, Jaskier shook his head.

“It’s only midday, dear Witcher,” Jaskier explained, “if I lay down now I'll need to get up again at some point before the night and that is far more trouble than it's worth.”

“What can I do?”

“Nothing, Geralt. There is nothing to be done except wait.”

Jaskier felt bad not being able to give the Witcher a clear task, but as it was, there was nothing either of them could do. He knew at some point Geralt would have to go and hunt something for dinner, but it was still early, so it wasn’t a concern yet. Jaskier considered briefly asking for help bathing in the stream, but Geralt had already done enough for him he didn’t want to push the limits of what the Witcher was willing to do. He also thought, with no small amount of dread, about how at some point or another he would need to relieve himself in the bushes and while it wasn’t an issue yet, it was sure to be in the next few hours. He tried not to dwell on that thought, however, as Geralt shifted to lean against the tree next to him.

The next few hours came and went with Jaskier telling stories and trying, fruitlessly, to get Geralt to do the same. He was doing everything in his power to distract both himself and Geralt from his pain. Eventually Geralt left to hunt for their dinner with instructions to yell if there was any danger and a promise that he wouldn’t stray far. He came back not thirty minutes later with two rabbits and quickly went through the motions of skinning and preparing them over the fire.

Jaskier could feel the tea making itself known in his bladder and knew that he was going to have to ask Geralt for help sooner rather than later. His ears tinted red as he called out a hesitant, “Geralt?”

“Hmm?” The Witcher responded, not looking up from the rabbits roasting over the fire.

“Erm…” Jaskier could feel the heat in his cheeks now, “could you help me stand up for a moment?”

The Witcher turned to look at him incredulously, “why?”

“Just help me to the bushes, it will only be a moment,” Jaskier said trying not to let his embarrassment bleed too heavily into his tone and failing quite spectacularly.

Something in Geralt’s eyes softened as he nodded and came over to where Jaskier was seated. Jaskier, for his part, refused to meet Geralt’s eyes as the Witcher lifted him up and brought him a little ways away from their campsite into the brush. Jaskier gave a soft gasp at the pain when Geralt lowered him to his feet keeping one arm around the bard’s waist to hold him upright.

Jaskier glanced nervously at Geralt, but the Witcher had turned his head away so as to reward him some modicum of privacy, at least. With no small amount of pain, through stiff and uncoordinated movements, Jaskier did his business and set himself back to rights. Without a word, Geralt gently lifted him back up and brought him back to camp.

When they returned, the rabbits were nearly done cooking and the moon was rising in the sky. Geralt helped Jaskier eat his dinner while simultaneously eating his own, then convinced Jaskier to have another cup of tea despite the bard’s complaints about the taste. Almost immediately, Jaskier could feel the effects of the valerian Geralt had added to this batch of tea and yawned dramatically to show it.

Without a word, Geralt lifted Jaskier up and carried him over to the bedrolls which were laid neatly next to each other just a little ways away from the fire. Geralt laid the bard gently down his bedroll and Jaskier did his best not to cry out at the pain caused by shifting his position. He felt stiff and uncomfortable and could only hope that sleep would take him soon as he listened to the Witcher settle down next to him.

Jaskier closed his eyes and tried not to focus on the pain pulsing through his body. He tried to shift to ease some of the strain, but all he managed to do was twitch slightly and hiss in pain. He heard Geralt sigh next to him and heard a bit of shuffling. He wasn’t sure what to expect but Geralt’s hand coming up to hesitantly comb through his hair was certainly not it. Not that Jaskier was complaining.

“’S nice,” he muttered.

Geralt didn’t respond, but he also didn’t stop, which Jaskier was grateful for. Slowly but surely he drifted off into a peaceful sleep, feeling better than he had all day. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed feel free to leave a comment or kudos! I am planning to write something about the next day and will probably be more Geralt centric so keep your eyes open for that if you liked this one!


End file.
